


Superposition

by ausername



Category: Megamind (2010)
Genre: F/M, a fanfic of some fanfics of a movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25910959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausername/pseuds/ausername
Summary: I recently realized my favorite movie has a fandom!!! And as I read some *amazing* fanfics with amazingly believable further worldbuilding by setepenre_set, I realized I had to write a fanfic based on some of their work, and with my own spin.What if MegaMind’s escape pod had set off for Earth a second later...?
Relationships: Mr. Scott and Mrs. Scott, eventual Syx (MegaMind)/Roxanne Ritchi
Comments: 41
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Teeth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8533810) by [setepenre_set](https://archiveofourown.org/users/setepenre_set/pseuds/setepenre_set). 



“You are destined for greatness.” The door of the small blue escape pod closes on a M’ega and Mynyn. On two infants filled with a sense of purpose.  
  
As the pod hurtles through space - as the infants view the black hole consuming the planets of the Gloupunkt System - the next thing to catch their attention is a shimmering golden refraction of light, ahead of them. In the time it takes to travel through cold, empty space, the young M’ega looks towards the sparkle, always ahead of them, as though seeking a light to lead the two to a new home.  
  
One beautiful thought can last as long as memory. One more splash of paint can mar a masterpiece. One added feather can tip a scale.  
  
One second can alter a story completely. Of the many seconds, many factors, in the events leading up to this story… two instances are paramount. In this new story, in the tale that once told of MegaMind and MetroMan, one more occurrence is necessary - to make this story a happy one, overall.  
  
Lady Scott stood up. She stood up, and then the chair upon which she’d been sitting was sent flying away - as a small golden object blasted through the front wall of the Scott’s mansion, the back wall, and went skidding across their lavish backyard until denting the back fence. As she stood still in shock, and her husband fumbled his newspaper, a blue object slid gently across the floor, settling neatly beneath their elaborate christmas tree...as though belonging there to begin with.  
  
Lady Scott, quick witted as she truly was, recovered first from the surprise. She took in the ruined walls, the dropped newspaper, the unwrapped parcel that had not been there before. She took a few slightly shaky steps forward, reached beneath the tree, and the escape pod opened, sensing another lifeform. The larger infant within stared up at her with large, solemn, curious green eyes. The woman was, instantly, smitten.  
  
“Our child,” Mrs. Scott proclaims, “This will be... our child.”  
  
“The sky...is falling,” Mr. Scott trembles in his seat, hand to his chest. However, in that moment, his wife has only eyes for the blue bundle she lifts into her arms, noting but heedless of the fish and water filled ball clutched to the infant’s chest.  
  
“Hello, curious one,” she coos. The baby blinks, takes in her tone of voice, and _smiles_ a toothless grin, burbling back. The sound is somehow sibilant. The fish seems to squint up at her, into her eyes, before… nodding approvingly? What an odd day this was. The blue baby turns in her arms, lets the water ball roll into an elbow, and points to the quivering man by the next chair, babbling up at her worriedly. “What a sweet child you are.” Mrs. Scott looks then, to her husband; to his curled up, shaking new position on the floor, to the far side of his chair. She notes critically that he reaches for his newspaper, despite it all. “Father will be fine,” she promises, and the baby nods as she does. For lack of a crib, the new mother sets her child back in the pod as she goes to soothe her husband.  
  
~~  
  


Mrs. Scott has Mr. Scott ask the gardener to investigate the first projectile. Oddly, the gardener does not return. Day one, the Scotts do not notice.  
  
~~  
  
There are concerns. The Scotts’ baby is, obviously, not human. This causes some problems rather...immediately, as it were, for by the first evening and before being named, the young M’ega was running a high fever. _That_ was manageable - calling in the family doctor, bribing her to secrecy - but this brought up more than simple parental worries. After the child recovered - and the child _would_ recover, had to - how often would sickness occur? Was this planet a poor match for the child? There were other questions relating to alien biology, of course, the least of which by far was wondering about the child’s gender. Mr Scott shrugs as the doctor gives the parents a description of the first x-ray.  
  
“We can ask,” Mrs. Scott consoles her spouse, “when our child is old enough to know.”  
  
~~  
  
Mr. Scott is perplexed, as he often is, when things don’t go according to schedule. The Scotts had left their child’s side long enough to eat what would have normally been breakfast, and to note that the gardener is not trimming the hydrangeas. When his wife gently reminds him the gardener went looking for the mysterious projectile, he points out, puzzled, that the man had been sent out two days before.  
  
The gardener is found about fourty minutes later, missing six fingers and his left foot, shivering and muttering to himself.  
  
“Baby… _baby_ …” As he is carried past the Scotts on a gurney, he fixes his fevered gaze on the two of them. “ _Killer baby_ ,” he manages, as he is lifted into the back of the ambulance. Mr Scott looks to Mrs. Scott, who quickly connects the dots. Two small projectiles. Two small passengers?  
  
Mrs. Scott had always loved children. Had always wanted her own. Thoughts of danger did not escape her; thoughts of the gardener’s dismembered foot, thoughts of - of her little blue baby, wheezing for air, needing it, needing -  
  
“Somewhere on our property, we have another child,” she whispers. “And likely, the child...needs... food.” Mr. Scott looked to a droplet of blood on the floor, looked to the rare sight of his visibly determined wife, and swallowed.

  
~~  
  
As it turns out, the Glau child is not hard to find. Crying loudly with a soiled diaper, if not for the reddish-brown streaks on arms and abdomen, the young one would seem like a human baby. Until you looked cautiously at the infant’s mouth. Full of...so many teeth. Mrs. Scott pulls a raw steak from her purse, removes the layers of plastic, and sets it at the child’s feet. After looking up at her, pouting, sniffling, the child shoves most of the thing into a small mouth, crunching through the t-bone effortlessly. As the baby gulps down the rest of the meat, even as blood drips around chubby cheeks, Mrs. Scott coos, and reaches down to deftly remove, then replace, the soiled diaper. Lifting the Glau into her arms, she dabbed the gore from his face and showed her husband the chubby, sated baby.  
  
“Isn’t he beautiful?” Mr. Scott, who had followed his wife blindly, took a moment to truly appreciate her earnest, beaming smile.  
  
“Terrifying,” he admits, mumbling, in response to the infant with the flesh-filled grin. “You’re... _you’re_ beautiful, darling.” Whenever it came to mind, he _had_ wanted to have a family with her… if only to see her smile, just like that.  
  
~~  
  
The M’ega eventually recovered, as if by some miracle, as if by the power of the child’s new mother refusing to believe otherwise. After a year of sickness, in and out of consciousness, one morning Mrs. Scott was speaking to them, words of encouragement she was sure her blue baby could not hear, and the child opened beautiful green eyes and spoke a raspy ‘ollo.’ The Mynyn, who had always hissed when lifted too far away from the M’ega, then did something Mrs. Scott had never witnessed a fish do. The Mynyn answered back.  
  
“I love you,” said the fish, repeating a phrase she’d oft said herself in… in both their companies. And her baby smiled at the fish, too.  
  
“Oh,” Mrs. Scott spoke, looking down at (her child’s pet? No, _another child_ ,) with new eyes. Her blue baby was squeezing the sphere of water close to their chest and smiling, smiling, with the beginnings of dull infant teeth.  
  
~~  
  
Her fat baby, Wayne, eats and eats and _eats_ , and is well. Blood mixed with milk, rare steaks, and - her blue baby (‘Ssyyyyx,’ they’d said, pointing to themself, ‘Syx,’) always looks a bit ill, watching him, sipping slushed baby food, mixed vegetables. Her aquatic baby, (who refuses to respond to any name given, but Syx’s odd nickname… Minion?) for the past year had eaten fish food with distaste. Now, adversely, he stares hungrily at the Glau child’s food. However, one look to the M’ega’s obvious discomfort, and the Mynyn would refuse raw meat. It wasn’t until one day he was offered cooked meat that his eating preferences were known.  
  
Taken by a rare impulse, Mr. Scott looked up over his paper that morning to really survey his family. ...A seeming cannibal, a babbling fish, and…Syx looks back at him, smiling a soft, genuine smile.  
  
“What are you reading?” The one year old inquires. Mrs. Scott nearly spills her drink down her shirt, shocked to hear her common phrase correctly used by their small child. Mr. Scott locks eyes with his wife, baffled, and she nods encouragingly.  
  
“Ah...the news…”  
  
“The news…?” Syx echos, question in their tone. And thus, uncertainly, Lord Scott began to explain newspapers and politics to his rapt audience. Eventually he forgets who he’s speaking to, lulled by the hypnotic tone of his own voice; but Lady Scott watches the scene with quiet fascination. Syx squints, tilts their head, nods… they clearly understand some of what is being said. _My child,_ Lady Scott thinks with pride, _will have a wonderful future._ A blue hand moves automatically and clumsily as Syx sticks their binky into their mouth, mouthing it thoughtlessly. The gesture is so endearingly _baby_ that the lady melts inside all over again. A new surety comes to mind. _I’ll make certain of it._


	2. Chapter 2

There’s an investigation. Of course there is. A man lost digits working for the Scotts, mentioned a murderous infant, just as the Scotts were set to officially adopt. They’d begun the process quickly...too quickly to be entirely legal, but then again, adopting aliens at all was a bit of a departure from the norm.  
  
They rang the refurbished doorbell with neither hesitation or bravado… a simple, sharp, confident click that was aware of the respect it demanded. Lord Scott was waiting for them. He’d talked to his wife about just such an instance… 

_~~_ _  
__  
__“Supposing someone comes for our children,” Lady Scott had said, and he’d nodded affirmation, “I’m sure you’d have something clever and authoritative to say, as you always do.” He’d smiled, distantly. “Something like, ‘Wayne and Syx are fraternal twins. They may not look much alike, and our Syx is something of a medical miracle. Our darling little miracle…’” That, at least, he could understand. Syx had crawled their way up into his lap to read the newspaper with him more than once, and disregarding whether the man understood the significance of that, he already felt Bonded._ _  
__  
__“As for our Minion…” Lady Scott licked her lips. “You created him. You’re brilliant,” Mr Scott set down his magazine, perplexed._ _  
__  
__“I a- did I?”_ _  
__  
__“You don’t recall? That makes sense, dear, you were in such a creative_ zone _, at the time… giving a fish the ability to speak, to raise him as a son… it was such a genius project, you didn’t even take time to make notes of your progress.”_ _  
__  
__“Ah... “ Seeing her husband wrong footed, Mrs. Scott took a step towards him, wrapping him up in her arms._ _  
__  
__“I know you’ll keep this family safe.” Her words were a command, and reaching up, she sealed them with a kiss._ _  
__  
__“Of course, dear.” His response was a promise. Reaching down to push a stray hair from his wife’s face, he smiled at the way she went limp in his arms._

_  
__~~_ _  
__  
_“Fraternal twins, you say?” Mr. Scott nodded, then took a decadent sip of tea.  
  
“Yes.” Why were they repeating it? “Fraternal twins.” Mr. Scott sipped his tea again, into the silence. One agent coughed into his elbow. The other fidgeted his watch.  
  
“I am truly sorry, Lord Scott, but your claim is bu- simply… impossible,” Mr. Scott blissfully took another sip of red raspberry leaf tea. “The creature you claim to have fathered has _blue skin_ -” from behind the three, in the hall, Lady Scott gasped. Lord Scott dropped his tea at the sound, stood up, and went to his wife in a hurry.  
  
“Sweetheart?” Tears ran down the woman’s flushed cheeks, and Lord Scott’s mind went somewhat blanker than usual. “...Darling?” Flustered, he wiped a tear from her face with his tie.  
  
“Those men...would imply...I was…?”  
  
“You were what?”  
  
“Unfaithful! Oh,” With a gale of sobs, the woman ejected herself from her spouse’s arms and fled the scene. For a moment, there was absolute quiet. When Lord Scott again faced the men in his study, his face was dark.  
  
“I must ask that you leave. And don’t come back.”  
  
“Wha- th-this is not-” Despite the men’s objections, they were escorted from the premises.  
  
Mrs. Scott hardly had time to remove the bottle of artificial tears from her sleeve before her husband found her and wrapped her in a tight embrace. She wrapped her arms around him in turn, leaning onto his steady shoulders.  
  
~~  
  
Three more years pass, without incident. The trio of children are adopted, with the aid of the Scott’s influence… and a frightening amount of money. At the age of four, none of them have left the mansion. They had no real reason to, as of yet. However, Lady Scott worried. Soon, they would be of the age for schooling.  
  
The young Scotts are playing near the garden. Minion rolls about Syx, who gestures animatedly as he speaks to his aquatic brother, flipping through a book his father had thoughtlessly left on the dining table. Wayne dashes around, and around, and around, and around, invisible to human, M’ega, and Mynyn eyes; setting off a rush of wind every time he passes. Seeing a fun opportunity in the moving air, Syx removes his bookmark paper, and folds it into a fragile, mostly streamlined shape. As soon as he feels a small draft on his skin, Syx releases the object. It sails high, over the garden, to rest atop the mansion’s roof. Syx turns back towards Minion with glee.  
  
“It _flew!_ Just like… those apparatus in the sky, that leave behind trails of- some form of... smoke? What are-”  
  
“Airplanes,” Lady Scott indulges her son as usual, thrilled with his grasp for knowledge.  
  
“Airplanes!” Syx squeaks. Lifting his arms fully to his sides, like wings, he begins to run around the yard himself, occasionally jumping into the air, all the while murmuring to himself with a child’s fantastic fascination. Mrs. Scott laughs, Minion laughs, until the M’ega leaps into the air- and doesn’t come down.  
  
“Airplanes!” Repeats Wayne, rising, his arms tucked under his sibling’s. Before their family had time to gasp, the two had disappeared into the sky.  
  
~~  
  
Syx’s sparkling green eyes were opened wide, wide, as he took in the ground below him.  
  
“Metrocity,” he breathes in wonder, “It’s...it’s… beautiful!” Wayne flashes his teeth down at his brother, and when the M’ega fails to react to the display, the Glau huffs, and begins a downwards spin. Elated laughter bubbles from Syx’s mouth, his eyebrows flying up, his lips and eyes rippling with g-force. He was having the time of his life.  
  
Wayne’s stomach grumbles. He sniffs the air, sniffs the back of his playmate’s head. An odd look crosses his face. He opens his mouth, sticks out his tongue-  
  
“Ew,” Syx states, even as an ancestral dread climbs up from the depths of his psyche. “Uh- _oh_ , what is that?!” Pointing down at a playscape, and more importantly, an open, meat-laden grill… Syx successfully diverts his brother’s attention. Wayne’s stomach grumbling again, with a diving swoop he lands feet-first in the gravel, dropping his sibling on his face.  
  
Getting up quickly, hand to the saliva-damp back of his head, Syx quickly surveys the area in response to his spike of adrenaline. A swinging set of wooden platforms on a chain, an oddly built structure upon which other children were climbing, sitting, and making preverbal child noises. A box of sand, in which a single child stood alone, holding a shovel full of the stuff above a lump, firmed and wet with the contents of a half empty water bottle at her side. As Syx meets her eyes - her curious, attentive, arrested expression - she drops the shovel.  
  
“...Ollo,” Syx tries, a strange, unknown feeling in his throat - another adrenaline response, perhaps? The girl walks over to him, her hands reaching out as if despite themselves, until she’s patting at the top of his large blue head.  
  
“You’re different,” she states, and Syx blushes.  
  
“Ah, compared to your, hue, and head, I suppose I…” the girl lowers her hands to her side, before lifting just one, her palm up.  
  
“I’m Roxanne,” she informs Syx. “Shake my hand.” Obeying without much thought, Syx puts his hand in hers.  
  
“...Ss...Syx,” he stutters, uncertain what ritual was taking place, here. Just as he opens his mouth to inquire - a thin, familiar wail cuts through the air.  
  
“I-I’m sorry, little guy,” the teen’s awkward tone threads around pouty sniffles, “but this is- this is for my hamburgers, I can’t just- what am I saying, you’re like, five? What do you even want with-” wail picking up in volume, Wayne tap-stamps his little feet. The teen, though troubled, is otherwise unmoved. Wayne’s expression goes sour.  
  
“Oh- oh, ohno,” turning away from Roxanne, Syx tries to take a step towards his brother - only to discover Roxanne still clings to his hand.  
  
“I- need to go- this is-” Roxanne tilts her head questioningly, squeezing his fingers in a toddler’s death grip.  
  
“With you,” she says easily, and Syx freezes. Eyes flashing back and forth - from the friendly girl, to his bothered brother, and back. Syx opens his mouth to explain, then the teenager screams. The horrifying screech-squelch of rapidly melting metal echoes across the park, as Wayne’s laser eyes take down the grill the raw meat patties are upon. As the teenager runs away, (“Ohmanohman _evil toddler_ -”) Wayne steps forward into the superheated remains of cooking gear to snatch up the partially scorched patties, throwing them back with a single gulp. “Ohno.” The sound of children crying fills the air, along with the teen’s screaming and the screaming of a few near-ish adults… Roxanne, for her part, sniffles, eyes wide. She pulls sharply on Syx’s arm, pulling him away.  
  
“We should go," Syx looks back at her with determination in his eyes.  
  
“No,” Syx says softly. “He’s my brother.” Lifting his free hand to gently remove her fingers from his, he takes a step closer to the heat, hands lifted before his face as the waves of it hit him.  
  
“Syx!” Roxanne calls out, as her mother scoops her up into her arms and begins to run away.  
  
“Wayne!” Syx forces himself forward, towards the flames, and Wayne looks his way blankly. “Wayne, we need to go home!” Stomach sated for now, Wayne shrugs.  
  
"Okay." He walks towards his struggling sibling, grabs him around the waist, and takes off; back into the sky.


	3. Chapter 3

“ _Thank goodness_ you’re alright…!” Mrs. Scott threw herself at her returning children and wrapped her arms around them even before they had fully settled back to earth, floating a little before Wayne touched her feet down by Minion’s ball. “Oh, where were you? Father sent people to find you, but we had no idea where you-”  
  
“I got a snack,” Wayne admits proudly. Syx just smiles sheepishly at his mother and a frantically rolling Minion. 

  
“Sir, did you- _are_ you- and, _Wayne_ -” Wayne puts a bare foot in front of Minion’s spinning ball, stopping him, and Minion huffs at the familiar gesture.  
  
“A snack?” Mrs. Scott’s eyes snap over Syx’s body. Noting no missing limbs, she finally, finally can relax. “That’s nice, dear. What was it…?”  
  
“Hamburger,” Wayne says, patting his tummy.  
  
“Right off the grill,” Syx mumbled. Mrs. Scott lifted Wayne’s hands immediately.  
  
“You weren’t burned, were you?” she asked, even as she checked each finger.  
  
“No _pe_ ,” Wayne assures her, grinning, loving the attention.  
  
“I don’t think he _can_ burn himself,” Syx muses.  
  
“How do you come to that conclusion?” Their adoptive mother asks primly.  
  
“Well, he stood _really rather close_ to flames after he melted the grill-” Mrs. Scott’s hands tighten on Wayne’s fingers. “-and he’s fi-” Mrs. Scott blinked once, then looked into Wayne’s eyes with a frown. Noting the change in his mother’s demeanor, Syx stopped speaking.  
  
“Wayne,” Lady Scott said gravely. Wayne stuck out his lips in a pout, and his mother drew him into a light hug. “You’re a child, you’re learning, and it’s perfectly acceptable to mess up now and again… but please, don’t break things.” She’d said this again and again.  
  
“I barely even touched it,” Wayne huffs.  
  
“That is, technically, true,” Syx offers. From Wayne’s feet, Minion sighs loudly.  
  
“Melting is breaking!” Mrs. Scott smiles down at Minion as she moves his water ball from where it was wedged beneath Wayne’s foot, lifting it and him towards her face.  
  
“Yes, Minion! Thank you. You are such a help!” Minion smiles, queerly, back at his adoptive mother. Syx takes pity on the Mynyn, reaching up for and receiving the ball of water his friend, brother, and primary caretaker was tucked into. Smiling sympathetically into the fish’s eyes, he takes a few steps away from Wayne and Mrs. Scott to whisper with his companion.  
  
“-Yes, I know she means well, or I wouldn’t _talk_ to her,” Minion explains for the nth time, and Syx pats the top of his fishbowl empathically, just listening to him vent. “But - but she- a Glou-”  
  
“You like Wayne,” Syx reminds him gently, “We both know you want to look after him, too.” Minion sighs deeply.  
  
“I _do_ ,” he bemoans, “he’s such a...such a kid! He doesn’t even... tie his shoes! Like someone _else_ ,” Shaking his whole body back and forth, he narrows his eyes at Syx. “But that doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous! We couldn’t watch him! He could have eaten you!”  
  
“He wouldn’t-” Syx begins automatically, even as he touches the back of his head in memory. “-Um.”  
  
 _“Um?”_ _  
__  
_“I-it’s- nothing to worry about, really,” Minon stares at him unblinkingly, dead into the eyes. “...Nuh-uh,” Minion’s lower eyelids flicker. “Don’t...don’t do it-” Minion makes the most adorable puppy dog eye approximation an underwater creature can manage, perhaps more lethal for the larger proportioned eyes. “Augh, I’ll tell you!” Satisfied, Minion’s expression melts temporarily into a smirk. “So, Wayne kinda...sorta... _maybe_ … agh.” Shaking his head, Syx starts again. “The hamburgers were well timed!”  
  
“What does that mean.” Syx looks away. Minion’s voice goes soft. “Don’t make me get Mrs. Scott.”  
  
“No! She can’t know,”  
  
“Aaand why is that.”  
  
“She can’t! Wayne…”  
  
“Is not more important than you.” Syx slumps, defeated.  
  
“He’s our brother,” Syx pleas, eyes wide. “He’s our best friend!”  
  
“ _You_ , sir, are my first priority. If he ever tries to hurt you-” Syx flaps a hand evasively, biting his lip.  
  
“You wouldn’t,”  
  
“Hm.”  
  
“Anyway, you couldn’t!” The young Mynyn’s face fills with determination.  
  
“I could at least distract him. And the Scott’s would take good care of y-”  
  
“MYNYN!” Whispering forgotten, Syx' voice carries well across the lawn. Tears springing to his eyes, he sets the water globe on the ground and, arms wrapped around his torso, he turns away.  
  
“Sir-” Syx does not turn back to face Minion. His shoulders quiver. “Sir…” Mrs. Scott stops talking to her other son, turning to face the commotion. From the house, Mr. Scott comes walking at a brisk pace, concern and relief warring on his face. 

  
“Then you can’t know, either,” Syx spits out, before dashing away past his adoptive father and into the mansion.  
  
“Syx!” Mrs. Scott shouts, but the boy doesn’t stop running until he’s out of sight. From inside his bowl of water, Minion gulps and gasps as though for air. As Mrs. Scott turns his way, his expressive eyes downturn for real.  
  
“What did you say to him?” His mother inquires gently, and the Mynyn looks back at her with a sorrowful expression.  
  
“Wayne is dangerous,” he whispers, even as the Glau boy follows his mother into human earshot.  
  
“ _Min_ ion,” She nearly snaps at him, even as Wayne looks his way with a curiously blank expression. Turning in his sphere, ignoring Lady Scott, he faces Wayne.  
  
“What,” he begins, “did you _do_ ?” Wayne stares at Minion.  
  
Then Wayne tells them.  
  
~  
  
The small, silent explosion of panic that went off in the elaborate backyard was palpable for all present. Even one of Mr. Scott's hands pressed to his chest, though he was a little out of hearing range; as he saw the absolute horror that flickered across his wife’s visage.  
  
He wasn’t the only one to see it. Wayne took a step towards his earthly mother, reaching up for a hug, and for the first time...she hesitated. Wayne didn’t cry. He tilted his head, confused. On some level, he already knew - if it had been anything, anyone, other than his brother - but, it was.  
  
“I didn’t,” he elaborates, “there were hamburgers.” Peeking out from his room’s window, Syx beheld the scene below.  
  
“...Never…” Mrs. Scott gasps, “Never do that again.” And the boy asks-  
  
“Why?”


	4. Chapter 4

_“If you eat people, they...disappear.”_ On some level, the explanation had already been obvious. On another, not so much. Wayne was four years old. What he did understand? Was fear. The fears of others hadn’t bothered him, weren’t meant to bother him. Fear was ambient to the Glau, to a predator. If it signified anything, it was that soon a need, hunger, would be met.   
  
And yet. Lady Scott had held him, burped him, tucked him into bed, in time just beyond the four year old’s conscious memories. Lord Scott had always been there, in the background. Always been there...like the eyes from the watery orb, constantly watching him, squinty or laughing or just focused. And the large headed M’ega. His intended diet, natural nemesis; and by a twist of fate, his brother.  
  
~  
  
Syx tossed the printed contents of a health booklet over his thin shoulder, onto his bed. There had been no luck, there. He rapidly read a book about animals of different diets, kept side by side in a zoo. No ideas there that weren’t already implemented! Slumping amid his sizeable mess of research, Syx frowned. There was no way to alter a being’s nutritional needs. It was impossible. Syx’ face began to fall, but then he leapt to his feet, resolution returning.  
  
“Just because _that_ is impossible doesn’t mean there is _no_ solution! Think...think…” The Glau and M’ega brothers were separated; Wayne was grounded. The brunt of Wayne’s personal punishment was only supposed to have been an hour of time out, given the boy’s age. Yet before his time of isolation had ended, he’d been found in the parlour with a cat’s tail sticking out of his mouth. He’d complained that he was hungry. But...he was _always_ hungry.   
  
_“You’re a growing boy, of course you’d need extra food,” his mother had said, somewhat sadly. “But you need to tell us when you’re hungry, okay? Stay in your room, please. We’ll feed you. Every time.” Wayne smiled cloudlessly. Two minutes later, he was asleep outside, spread out in the sunlight. “We need to do something…” Mrs. Scott told her husband. “We need to protect Syx. ...And we need to teach Wayne to listen. Until then...” Mr. Scott wrapped his wife in an embrace. Standing in the nearest doorway, a book in hand, Syx had heard every word._ _  
_ _  
_“I could carry meat on my person? It would need refrigeration. Feasible…? ...Well… but wait, no. Maybe-” a knock sounds on Syx’ door, and he leaps slightly, surprised out of his brainstorm. His eyes flit about his disorganized piles of research. No time to hide it, really. No good excuse.  
  
“Come in,” the youth sighs in resignation. And as he had expected, Mrs. Scott enters his room, holding Minion’s ball of water.  
  
“Minion wanted to see you, and- oh,” Eyes falling to the mess of papers, and their headlines, Syx’ mother and Minion sigh near in-tandem. “Syx…” Mrs. Scott speaks, “Syx, this isn’t your responsibility. It is mine and your fathers…”   
  
“And mine,” Minion adds. In reply, Syx turns away, expression distant. Mrs. Scott lifts Minion’s ball of water to her face and frowns.  
  
“You are far too young to have such worries,” she insists, but Minion shakes his body back and forth.  
  
“My sole purpose in life is to _look after_ Syx,” Minion explains for the nth time, and as always, this information goes towards Mrs. Scott, hits a maternal force field, and is ejected somewhere into space.   
  
“Loyalty to family is beautiful,” Mrs. Scott murmurs, “but then, who will look after you?”  
  
“I’m okay,” Minion insists, “Mynyns don’t really have parents, the way M’ega do. We’re meant to be independent in a school. I can look after myself just fine!” Syx huffs near sardonically, and Mrs. Scott raises an eyebrow.  
  
“Ignore that,” Minion mutters, “he’s being…” flapping his fins, gesturing with vague frustration, he comes up with the only word he can put on being ignored by his charge. “Stubborn.”  
  
“What!” Mrs. Scott is unaccustomed to hearing Syx raise his voice so high. “ _Who’s_ been stubborn, you, you, you…! Martyr!” Minion whirls around in his ball of water, fins flaring.   
  
“I’m just saying, _I will protect you._ ”  
  
“And _I’m_ just saying, _don’t!_ ”   
  
“Wha-” Minion’s fins flare still further, his eyes the size of saucers.   
  
“-Boys,” Mrs. Scotts voice is uncharacteristically soft, as a thin tear leaks from her left eye. “Please...this isn’t your…” Minion turns back towards her, and Syx’ anger is temporarily forgotten as he walks closer to the two, and pats a hand on his adoptive mother’s knee. Lady Scott wipes away her tear on the shoulder of her shirt, takes a deep breath, and kneels down on the floor, setting Minion’s ball in Syx’ hands. “Please, don’t fight about this. This... is an adult responsibility.”  
  
“Wayne isn’t an adult,” Syx points out. Mrs. Scott just nods. Another tear tracks down her cheek. Minion reaches a fin forward, settling it against the side of his ball.   
  
“I need hands,” the Mynyn whispers absently. Syx looks down at him, finally.  
  
“I drew a sketch of you with hands. And legs, and feet. Well, sort of.” Grateful for the change of topic, Mrs. Scott brightens.  
  
“You drew? Can I see?” Nodding, the young boy passes Minion’s ball back to his mother before going to dig through a specific pile of papers beside his bed.  
  
“This is…” Mrs. Scott marveled when handed the diagram. “Amazing. You’re amazing at drawing.” _And,_ Mrs. Scott thinks, _possibly at...inventing?_ _...He_ could _use a distraction. And if it would separate him from Wayne..._ An idea from the back of her mind came to the forefront. “Syx, Minion… how would you feel about leaving the house? I think it’s about time...you went to school.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to post another short chapter, aaa. Life is tricky rn, but I'm doing my best.


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